Sleep came fitfully, painfully. After the blood was washed off and I stepped into a new nightgown, my mind would not quiet. The pain remained -- between my legs, my right hip, down my back, my left breast, the bite mark on my shoulder -- pulsing like a dying star. When sleep finally came to me, I embraced it like a lover. We went down, together, into the depths, where pain did not exist. A pinprick in the darkness. "Get up! C'mon now, up!" I opened my eyes and found my canopy swept away in the morning light. Aunt Wallis stood there, fetching in a grey wool dress, smiling. There was no warmth there. "Get up." I rubbed my eyes. "What's going on?" "We're going to see that grandmother of yours," she said dryly. "So go get ready." I did as was told, ignoring her glare at my shoulder and attempting not to limp, and returned to the room a few minutes later -- teeth brushed, face splashed with cold water, hair up in a neat bun -- to her in my room still, rummaging through my wardrobe. When she found what she was looking for -- a long-sleeved, black dress that fell above the knees -- she tossed it at me. "Put that on," she told me. "And wear that black coat." "Please excuse me," I mumbled. "Not to worry, dearie," she said, smiling as she went to perch herself on my bed. "We're both women, all the same." I attempted to retain some pathetic form of dignity as I turned my back to her and dressed in the chosen outfit, pushing my arms through the sleeves and adjusting it on my frame. An ant was lower than I at that moment. "He had fun with you last night, didn't he?" my aunt asked me. That's what she called it -- [i]fun[/i]. A word likened to days in the sun, laughing, twirling and spinning on grass till the dizziness takes over a... ... middle of paper ... ...r wait any longer, shall we?" he said and put his arm about my shoulders, propelling me forward. When we reached my aunt, whom still giving the driver a tongue lashing, Uncle told her bluntly to shut her mouth and get on inside before she catches her death. He slipped the man a hefty note for his troubles and we followed my aunt inside. A languid man in a suit was waiting for us in the grand foyer -- a vast space decorated . "Follow me, please," he said, as dry as a bone, and beckoned for us to carry on after him. We weaved through various hallways and corridors, past beautiful paintings of old and delicate artifacts hung on the walls and perched on tables. Antlers of long dead deer dotted the walls like thorns crawling out of the woodwork. "How vulgar," Aunt Wallis whispered as we passed them. Uncle paid her no heed. I happened to think that they were fanciful.
“Not. I mean no. I’m stuck,” she replied in a breathy voice. He laughed low and rough, warm puffs of his breath hitting her as his hands groped the waist of the skirt again. A few tugs, and it slid down her body to the floor. His blue eyes staring up at her, while her skirt lay puddled in a soft heap on the floor. She struggled to control her breathing.
“I had woken up early, dressed quietly, and crept out of the room. I wanted to bring up breakfast and also see
at his row, rechecked her ticket stub, and hoisted her bag into the over head, and slipped past him into the window seat next to his.
“Well, as you asked,” she replied. “Hear,” she picked a suspiciously tedious pile of leather bound books and thrust them into my arms. “Bring this to the master’s office,” she continued giving a withering look as if she were thinking of throwing me off the roof.
She informs me, Oh you’re a woman now! Hurry and run that under cold water so the stain doesn’t set. You should wear black heels with that dress. You can make the dessert.
In the car we talked about anything except the day ahead of us, but Stephanie’s absence was still felt in small ways. “Where are the directions to Pete and Steph… Um, I mean Pete’s house?” I asked my sister. Silence was the response. Both of us thinking about how it isn’t Aunt Steph’s house anymore. How Aunt
She was standing by the closet slowly picking out her outfit for the day. “Sorry, but I don’t feel like being a bum for three months,” She said. I could hear the snottyness in her voice. Slowly I pushed the blankets down and crawled out of bed. Not a very good start to my summer. Groggily, I got dressed and trudged to the kitchen to get some breakfast. I guess I
“Here, I got you something, perv.” Turning around hearing Beck's voice she shook her head catching the outfit he threw at her. Rolling her eyes she placed it back on the rank of clothing as she continued to look at things. “You know, I can't help wanting to look good when I go to bed. It's not like I'll be sleeping naked any time soon.” Casciana spoke sarcastically looking down at the clothes on the rack, pulling out a skimpy black number she held it up looking at Beck before biting her lip. “So, what do you think?” she asked holding up the little see-through black lingerie she tilted her head slightly. “Oh, and about your question. I learned everything I know from Thelma and Louise. Do you remember how that was the only movie I would watch
as I walked through the deep blood stained snow that looked as if a bucket of red paint had exploded in a room with white walls. My left thigh had a large long gash running from my hip down to my knee, dark red blood ran the nile river down to my sock. Every step I took I could feel the the puddle of blood had has build up in the toe of my shoe. It seemed as if I had been walking for miles and miles but i was barely 400m from the cabin that I had so many pleasant memories in.
When death has once entered into a house, it almost invariably returns immediately, as if it knew the way, and the young woman, overwhelmed with grief, took to her bed and was delirious for six weeks. Then a species of calm lassitude succeeded that violent crisis, and she remained motionless, eating next to nothing, and only moving her eyes. Every time they tried to make her get up, she screamed as if they were about to kill her, and so they ended by leaving her continually in bed, and only taking her out to wash her, to change her linen, and to turn her mattress.
i'm not walking out near naked like you are. besides, what's wrong with this dress?" the female spun in a circle delicately, the dark lace of the outfit billowing out around her as she did so. "don't get me wrong, cal. it's beautiful, honestly. it's just... a bit too wedding and not enough party." cally shook her head with a soft, annoyed sigh, falling face-first on the bed with a grimace, her golden hair fanning out around her. there was a long pause between the two, only the faint sound of metal clothes hangers scraping against the rack that she had in her closet filling the room. "this one. this is the one, cal, i swear!" it hadn't taken long for allison to find 'the one.' in fact, cal couldn't be bothered about it. the last six dresses she had selected had also held that title for a minute or so before they, too, were shot down, and besides, the blonde was already halfway back into her peaceful rest, her eyes fluttering closed. "last one, i promise!" cal forced herself up, shooting her friend a warning look as she took the outfit from her, gliding into the bathroom to
Whatever she wanted to discuss was surely important, however, she was having second thoughts about confiding in me. She was struggling inside. Her gestures had the same inutility as a nervous twitch. She moved in her chair in a contorted motion, wiggling to change her position, but after having found herself, successively, back in the same place, she finally gave up on the idea of ‘relocating’ her body within the limited space her seat was offering. So, she remained still, but started stroking the skirt of her black dress, with the obvious, and unnecessary intention to make wrinkles, - already invisible-, nonetheless disappear. Unhappy with the results of her last effort, she pulled on the hem of her dress, upsetting the garment that fitted her so
In 2004–2005, the Penn Humanities Forum will focus on the topic of “Sleep and Dreams.” Proposals are invited from researchers in all humanistic fields concerned with representations of sleep, metaphors used to describe sleep, and sleep as a metaphor in itself. In addition, we solicit applications from those who study dreams, visions, and nightmares in art or in life, and the approaches taken to their interpretation.
The “why” and “how” of proper order are two themes of four major ones that help explain proper order. In edict to have a good understanding of both the “why” and “how”, we must take into account the “what” and “where”. The meaning behind these two concepts, integrated with the former, are sufficient for a knowledgeable explanation of proper order as being fragile and paradoxical. Confucius, Mencius and Xun-Zi give us a great in-depth understanding to analyze a possible answer to “why” and “how” in proper order as ‘life’.
Cassandra groaned against her pillow, sleep continuing to evade her. Ironic that a part of her was desperately grateful that her body refused slumber. With sleep came dreams, with dreams...came him. A shiver ran along her spine and she recalled the dream she'd had in the bath house, the way he'd gently nudged her mind, her body. The worst part of it all,